Lost In Albany, With Donuts

Finally made it to a city in New York that wasn't Buffalo. My old high school friend Valerie (wait, she's not old, she's an old friend... from high school... OK, never mind, she's my friend Valerie) moved up there just recently, and we made plans to make plans once I got there. There was only one thing standing in the way, and that was the Albany Hotel Room Numbering System.
I'd like to say, "Here's how the AHRNS works," but I never damn figured it out. I was in room 2209. Since there were not 22 floors, I figured the second floor would contain room 2209. Nope. Second floor was the 200s. Nary a thousand on it. The front desk was actually on the side of the hotel, so I figured it would be quicker to just keep looking than to go way over there and ask. Turns out there was an addition to the hotel way in the back that had thousands in it. Again, not 22 floors, so I started on floor two. 1900s. No really. I'm not a student of logic, but I can think of absolutely no connection between 2 and 19. No reason a hotel builder would say, "Now, how should we number the rooms on the second floor in the other wing... I know, 1900s!" At that point, I was tempted to go all the way up and ask at the side desk, but some guy noticed me fuming in the elevator and volunteered that the 2000s were definitely up there. At that point, I reasoned second floor=19, fifth floor=22. Nope. 2300s. So down there somewhere, I think, was an A and B version of the same thousand. Makes as much sense as anything else did in that kooky place. The only thing that did make sense was that 2209 was indeed on the fourth floor, which was one floor down from the 2300s.
Valerie wisely met me at the side desk, and we cruised Albany. Looked a lot like Austin. One thing I noted immediately was the profusion of Dunkin' Donuts. There was one of those things in Baton Rouge in the eighties, and as soon as I got old enough to have my own car and go there by myself, it closed. Later, in basic training, the sudden and pervasive need for a chocolate creme-filled DD donut seized me with a lightning fist, and I had to live with that bit of sand in my shell for one whole year, as I got stationed in California, where they have drugs, prostitutes, Austrian actor/governors but no Dunkin' Donutses. So naturally, the first DD I saw in Albany stuck out.
As did the second. And third. By the time I counted fifteen, I began to suspect something was up. Valerie phrased it succinctly: "There's a lot of Dunkin' Donuts up here in Albany."